


Lovebirds

by foulrescent



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blushing, Cat, Established Relationship, Feat. Blue The Annoying Cat, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Modern AU, Orgasm Denial, Picnic, Porn, Sappy, Some fucking sappy shit Right Here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foulrescent/pseuds/foulrescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A light kiss on Keith’s nose. </p><p>“There was a time that Keith would've shoved him off,” Hunk blissfully remembers.</p><p>“Oh,” Lance squeaks, “He’s pinching my balls.”</p><p>Keith twists.</p><p>(A blissful, domestic morning. A picnic with their group of friends that consist of a sassy Pidge, a cuddly Hunk, an exhausted Shiro, a sophisticated Allura and a ginger Australian with a dog. And a heated night that lasts until the morning.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! Sorry if you come across any mistakes, i edited late at night. I also made Coran Australian - sorry????? Also sorry for the title. 
> 
> Enjoy xxxxxxx

Something soft and slightly wet brushes against Keith’s nose. He wrinkles it and clenches his eyes shut tighter, though he softly calls out, “Lance?”

“Nope,” Lance speedily responds, voice echoed, “It must be… Let me look.”

Keith opens his eyes and automatically reaches out to scratch their cat Blue on the head. She’s a wearing navy, fluffy thing, and always insists to make the bed even hotter than it usually is in the middle of the night. The bedroom door was locked last night, and she’d scratched against it for half an hour until she got the hint.

“I’m not sorry,” he tells her very seriously, even as she rolls away. He narrows his eyes. “You were _kissing_ me just before.”

“Blue, get your filthy paws off my man,” Lance orders, standing in the bathroom doorway.

Keith blushes. He lets his hand fall back on Lance’s pillow beside his and gazes up at Lance. There’s a baby blue towel around Lance’s waist and the hair framing his face is dry, but the strands against the base of his neck are stuck against his skin. There’s a hickey where his throat descends into his chest, although it’s barely visible against his olive complexion. Keith should have sucked harder to have Lance match with his own body, which decorated with gentle bruises.

“What?” Lance asks slyly, leaning against the doorway.

The sunlight frames his figure and Keith continues to stare. “You’re awake before me,” he says instead of spluttering out some sappy compliment.

Lance’s lips stretch out into a smile, his cheek dimpling. He starts to hum an unknown tune and crosses his arms over his glistening chest. He looks down at Keith with a look of absolute adoration and graciousness. Keith loves moments like these, when it’s just him and –

“Yep. Which means I win.”

Keith can _tolerate_ moments like this, when it’s just him and Lance’s endlessly competitive attitude.

“What.”

“You said that I’d make us late to the picnic because I’d sleep in, but _you’re_ the one that’s still in bed,” Lance snootily says, nose in the air as he stares down at Keith with an expression that’s clearly stating: _I win! I win I win I win_.

Keith turns over, nudging Blue and receiving a hiss, and buries his face into Lance’s sweet scented pillow. He grumbles, “You’re the one that didn’t,” but he stops, because he realises that it just sounds like he’s groaning, and all round defeated. He stays on his stomach and allows Blue’s heated fur to press against the side of his stomach. He rests his cheek to the pillow and clearly, though sleepily, claims, “ _You’re_ the one that didn’t wake me up. Making us late.”

“Buddy, you said I wouldn’t wake up in time. Guess what? I did! You didn’t. I win.” Lance reaches towards the top of the doorway with shaped fists, but he’s too tall so he presses against the plaster instead of shaking his fists in triumph.

Keith opens his mouth to argue, but the great stretch of Lance’s body distracts him. As a consequence of all the boxing and gym they’ve gotten into, Lance’s body has transformed into firm, fixed lines, but the V that leads to his dick is defined. Keith wants the towel to fall into a pool onto the floor, where the carpeted bedroom meets the tiled bathroom.

He immediately looks up with a heated face, just to meet Lance’s floundering lashes and the easy smile spread along his lips.

“Don’t even think about it,” Lance warns, but he saunters over the briefs and dirty socks on the carpet, moving his hips noticeably side-to-side, and stops by the edge of the bed. “Off to the shower you go.” He leans down and subtly pushes a hissing, disgruntled cat to the side so he can loom over Keith comfortably. He presses his palms against the bed.

He nuzzles his face into Keith’s hair and sniffs with the strength of his entire diaphragm. He grabs the back of Keith’s neck. The touch sends a shiver down Keith’s spine. “You need to wash off your loser stench,” Lance advises, breath a heavy ghost against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up.” Keith barely swats Lance’s hand away.

Lance plants a knee on the bed, which catches the towel and slowly pulls it off of him. He balances himself above Keith by placing his elbows on the sides of Keith’s head, digging them into the pillows. Keith turns onto his back within the space that Lance is trapping him in, and he accidentally slips between the two separate pillows on the bed. He immediately grabs onto Lance’s hips, even smoothes his palms down the luscious, slightly wet skin to reach the outlined hips.

He stares directly at Lance’s blue eyes and tracks his gaze along his face, down the sharp line of his jaw and his plush pink lips. Lance presses down onto him, with a bare leg between Keith’s naked legs, though Keith is covered by a thin sheet.

“Now who’s making us late,” Keith huffs, an underlying tone begging Lance to kiss him.

“You are. You’re not pushing me off,” Lance challenges.

Because Keith must win and not give in, he shoves Lance off of him, sits up, and watches as Lance bounces on the right side of the bed. Blue scowls from where she’s relocated against the wall and jumps off the bed, making a low, grumbling noise that’s everything but happy as she stalks off.

Keith kisses Lance’s mouth close-lipped, taps Lance’s hip but doesn’t linger with his touch, and swings himself off the bed. The humidity that’s residue from the latest shower taken, or perhaps the smouldering feeling that Lance has caused to flow all throughout Keith’s body, provides comfort as his naked body hits the air.

Lance whistles and Keith hears him shuffling about already, but doesn’t look back. “Your ass is still red,” Lance notes mildly.

Keith steps into the bathroom, peeks around the obscuring wall. He grips the doorframe and stares at Lance’s back as he bends down to look through the drawers for clean clothes. His pert little ass curves as he does so.

“Your loser stench…” Lance sings, like he knows that Keith’s just staring.

“Shut up.” Keith slams the bathroom door, but presses his ear against it so he can hear Lance’s laugh.

 

~ 

 

Keith settles in a chair that faces Lance into the little two-person table that’s tucked into the corner of their kitchen and presses his foot against Lance’s foot underneath it. He looks across at Lance, who looks more awake at half past nine than he usually does. Normally he’s droopy eyed and yawning every minute or so, and definitely doesn’t set out the bowl and spoon and milk and cornflakes for Keith, but he’s buzzing with excitement. Keith doesn’t blame him; they haven’t seen their friends in the week that they’ve been back home. Sure, they spoke on FaceTime and messaged each other before that for a month, but it’s different when it’s not constant as a result of the irritating time zones. 

And it’s different without Hunk’s hugs. Lance complained about missing out on that comfy experience almost everyday.

“Hey,” Lance says casually, a little muffled, as his mouth is half full. Keith grimaces when he doesn’t find Lance’s toast filled mouth as gross as he did in the first months he knew Lance. He reminds himself that Lance is disgusting, but instead his heart fills with complete adoration.

Keith has the decency to not expose his chewed up cereal.

“I’ll blow you tonight if you don’t make your grumpy face _all_ day today.”

“You’re going to blow me anyway,” he says, not bothered by Lance’s bold statement.

“No no no no _no._ No. I’m not going to if you don’t turn that frown upside down,” Lance counters with, narrowing his eyes over his mug of orange juice.

Keith lazily cocks his head to the side and looks at Lance through his dark eyelashes. He blinks slowly. “But we’re gonna be outdoors all day. There’re bugs.”

Lance reaches over and grabs Keith’s free hand that’s resting on the table. Keith lets his arm stay limp as Lance drags it up towards his face. He directs Keith’s fingertips along his smirking mouth and warns, “So smile. Be nice. Or you won’t get this.”

Keith pushes his fingers against Lance’s mouth and Lance immediately parts it slightly, and pretends to nibble at Keith’s skin. Sighing, Keith says, “But you take anything that goes near your mouth.”

Lance leans back, pulling off of Keith’s fingers. “Not tonight though,” he cheerily declares, “Either you frown prettily or you’re getting nothing. _And_ you also have to tell Hunk about the yoghurt story. It’s funny. He’ll laugh.”

This is encouragement, Keith knows. He knows that Lance is giving him a way of being more eager to socialise. It’s good – socialising is good. Keith swallows the uneasy feeling down, but it doesn’t take much effort because he’s glowing with gratefulness.

He plays along, resting his hand in his lap, “At the end of the night I’m still coming anyway.”

Lance squints at him viciously, but his mouth is lifted on one side. “I won’t let you. You know what. Tonight I’m just gonna jerk off while staring at you… not even let you come until the next day. So smile. And talk. Alright buddy?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He pretends to think about it, stretching his lips out in a line. “Maybe I’ll just do that anyway. You’ll enjoy it, right? You’ve always liked whining.”

Keith flushes, feels the heat gather in his ears and spread out across his nose. He wants to stare into the soggy remains of his cereal, but he slants his eyes just to see Lance staring directly back at him. The look sets something exhilarating in Keith’s toes.

“Right?” Lance presses, raising a defined brow.

“A little,” Keith softly admits, absolutely scarlet.

Lance’s eyes almost sparkle. He finishes up his breakfast first – he had gotten a head start, after all – and begins to pack the picnic basket. Keith munches on his cereal, which are now mushy like porridge, but cold. He grunts confirmative when Lance wonders out loud, “Should I bring the blueberries,” and flat out groans when Lance proposes cold pizza for the picnic. They’d had margarita and barbecue chicken last night, but ditched at least half in favour of making out on the couch to a background of squelching monsters and horrified screams.

Keith presses the milk carton closed, grabs it by the body and collects everything else that he’s used on the table to put away, because he’s always been sluggishly and automatically tidy in the mornings. He dumps his dishes in the sink and makes his way to the fridge, the half empty carton of milk a heavy weight in his hand as he fixates on Lance’s pouty, considering, and thoughtful lips as he looks down at a packet of dried apricots.

The fridge coats him with cool air and Keith relishes it. He tucks the milk away in the door and stands against the shelves. He hooks his arms over the door and hangs off of it. There’s not much in the fridge, so he knows there’s little risk at spoiling anything by keeping it open to however long he desires to, or whenever he’s forced to slip his shoes on and go outside.

“Stop wasting electricity, Keith,” Lance blandly says.

“The fridge’s on all the time.” Keith rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s cold all the time, but the light inside’s only on whenever the door’s open.” Lance throws a massive treat of authentic Swedish chocolate into the open basket.

“Where’d we get that thing?” Keith gestures to it.

He doesn’t remember buying a picnic basket together. It seems like an odd thing to just have, whether it came unknowingly from Keith’s things or Lance had it all along. They rarely go on picnics, and when they do they settle onto a blanket with hot and crispy fish and chips or greasy burgers and Allura’s persistent celery and hummus. Maybe the picnic basket is a sign they’re getting too mature.

Lance hums, not having listened.

“The basket. Where’d we get it?”

“Oh,” Lance pops up, turning away from his foodie assemble with bright eyes. “Found it in the busy cupboard. Mum must’ve stored it there. You know how she brought over all these domestic things she didn’t want. I even found a fucking blender. A blender! We’re making smoothies tonight.”

Keith smiles. “Find anything else?”

“Things I shall not name,” Lance announces, pompous.

“Photo albums.”

“Don’t be a dick and do me a favour to look at them when I’m not here.”

Keith urges the door into a swing that drags his feet along the floor. “I’ll just give you the funny looks after.”

“What’re you doing?” Lance narrows his eyes. “Do something useful." He winks.

“I can help you if you—“

“No! You’ll just mess up my beautiful way of packing. This beautiful construction can only be done by me and like fuck I would actually let…” Lance keeps on talking, but he turns around back to his work. He’s on one track. The words are dictated by the way Keith can see the side of his jaw moving.

Keith gently closes the fridge door and starts on the dishes, washing off the toast crumbs and pouring out the left over milk. Lance bumps his hip to Keith’s and pretends to act like he didn’t do it as he packs in strawberry Pocky’s and dried bottles of water. The whole thing’s an epitome of a spousal affair.

 

 ~

 

Keith hugs his hands to his chest and dozes off in the car. Despite Lance’s best efforts to convince Keith to take the motorcycle, Keith refused. The huge, ancient picnic basket that Lance dug out from the jungle-like trash cupboard of theirs would never have a place on the sleek bike. That was the excuse that Keith used, but truthfully he probably won’t be able to resist pulling up to a service station and locking Lance into a bathroom stall. Especially with Lance pressed up all against Keith like that… he shivers in his half-asleep state. He hasn’t had much self-control since they’d come back.

It’s a fair drive of an hour, give or take, because of the city traffic gushing towards a weekend in the mountainous regions. There’s a snappy tune on the station, but it’s not too loud and disruptive for Keith to not settle down. He rolls his head to Lance’s direction, pressing his cheek against the head of the car seat, and watches Lance’s grip on the steering wheel before he closes his eyes to get some rest. 

He doesn't startle when a hand rests on his elbow, then his thigh.

“Late night?” Lance teases, voice light and breezy. The window must be open on the driver’s side.

Keith doesn’t open his eyes, but he frowns. “You already know how late I stayed up. You were there.”

“You’re so fucking delightful. I love you.”

He opens his eyes and doesn’t dare shrink at the way that Lance is looking up at him. These moments – they’re rare in element of their relationship that is verbal, but they’re abundant in touches and slanted gazes. There was no need for it to be said now. Lance’s hand is on him.

“More. I love you more.”

“Nope!” Lance cheerily snaps, “We aren’t starting this when we’re this close to our friends that already think we’re sickening to be around. Nope. Last time this argument took a life of it’s own. Nope, we’re not doing this.”

A moment passes. Keith stares intently at Lance, who just can’t help himself.

“But I love you more,” Lance says in a reserved tone.

“I love you—“

Lance slams a hand over Keith’s mouth. The car follows the action, almost swerving off the road and into the sturdy tree trunks. Keith’s heart beats a little faster, but he dives into a fit of giggles when Lance swears and corrects the direction with two trusty hands on the wheel. Keith can’t help but think: saying those words would’ve been a nice way to go. But today, or the next 50 years of intertwining and having more and spinning between sheets and kicking fluff balls off the bed, isn’t the time.

 

 ~

 

The place that Allura’s picked out is brilliant. Keith and Lance share the load. Lance grabs the picnic basket and the navy blanket with embroidered bursts of yellow, whilst Keith tucks both their sunglasses into the V of his shirt when he notices that Lance doesn’t have an extra hand to tuck his own sunglasses behind his ears. Keith also carries the cooler. He’s not an asshole.

There’s a small trail lined with blossoms and bright ruptures of pink in the dark green leaves. Keith can also smell the pollen. He hopes that Lance has packed away some hay fever medicine in a place in his intricate assemble of supplies.

“They said they’re set up in half-sun and half-shade,” Lance says, not looking back at Keith but continuing to walk. He speaks to the empty space ahead of him. “Either get a spot in the shade or top up on sunscreen, my little lobster.”

Keith nearly loses his footing on a protruding rock, but he keeps his voice clear. “Okay.”

“I mean, you did just heal from the your last round of it. Let’s try and keep _visible_ dead skin cells out of the house.”

He snorts. “As if dead skin cells are worse than your fingernails.”

“Bitch. You know I broke it. _As if_ I would just leave it there if I wasn’t distressed about it.” Lance sniffs, “Next bodily part you’ll find of mine lying around the house will be my broken heart.”

Always so dramatic. “I’m expecting your brain in the trash next, actually.”

“A little part? Don’t be alarmed. It’s supposed to be in there. It’s the matter containing my questionable love for—Oh my _God_! Which one of those fucking snakes got a dog _without telling me_?” Lance breaks into a run with his long legs taking really wide strides. He’s halfway across the clearing that has more than half of the grass covered with bright blankets.

The single crude word attracts some concerned looks from surrounding adults with children. One little girl repeats the word and starts sprinting with her chubby little legs after Lance, but her mother scoops her up before she gets too far. The mother gives Keith a pointed look, but Keith’s too busy psyching himself up for a little jog to pay her much attention. She’s probably dropped more bombs while changing stinky nappies than Lance did just then.

Their group is definitely covered in some shade, but the sun is glimmering disgustingly vivid above them. Allura’s sitting in the glamour, her several-shaded dress ruffling up around her sitting form. Her cheeks are glowing and she’s grinning, having spotted the pair of them heading towards them. Lance is still running. Keith is stumbling after him.

“Dog!” Lance screeches and crashes down onto his knees as soon as he reaches the picnic set up. He sets everything messily down and pays no attention to the friends he hasn’t seen in a month. “I love you SO much!”

The dog’s a little thing, but they bark in delight and immediately start to jump excitingly over this friendly stranger. Lance squeals. Pidge covers her ears, but jumps to a stand. She smoothes down her denim overalls and airs out the green t-shirt underneath the straps. It is hot. That seems like a good idea. Keith pulls back his tank top and lets it retreat back to his body, creating a gush of cooler air. The sunglasses rattle.

Keith smiles at the girls and gives Lance a little kick on the lower back. He wants to tell him to say ‘hello’, but what comes out is a pissed off little hiss of, “You don’t treat the cat like this.”

Lance gasps in happiness, still strung up on ruffling the dog behind the ears. “Because I like dogs. Look at how cute he is. Look look look.” Lance scoops up the dog in his hands and holds him up, twists his body to direct the munchkin face towards Keith.

Keith doesn’t feel anything but a little unsettled. “But—“

“You named the devil after my favourite colour. That was you!”

“I named Blue blue because she’s a Scottish Fold and she’s blue! I was gonna say that you never ever said that you like dogs.”

Lance narrows his eyes in defiance, squishes the dog to his cheek. The dog licks Lance’s face with a large, wet tongue. Looks like Keith won’t be sucking bruises underneath Lance’s jaw until the skin is disinfected. Twice.

“I’m going to get the cutest little dog in the WORLD and name her after your favourite colour. Oh, Blue and Red. And we’ll get a purple fish,” Lance happily blabbers and places the dog on the floor, his hands on the thick tummy that gets displayed immediately.

“You know that dogs aren’t really… I like cats,” Keith helplessly says.

“I know that you’re a devil worshipper. It’s not your fault that I’m also faithful to these saints. Please, Keith!” Lance pleads, then corrects himself with flourish, “If you say no I’m getting Red anyway.”

Keith glares.

“I see that nothing’s changed,” Pidge blandly says. She might even roll her eyes.

Lance gasps and excitingly crawls over the near-empty picnic assemble, the heavily breathing dog following him. He stands up on his knees and throws his arms around Pidge, who easily hugs him right back. He presses his cheek against her chest. “I missed you.”

“Hello, Keith,” Allura elegantly says. Keith waves.

“My darling!” Lance interrupts, almost purring, “Tell me you’ve made that good ole carrot cake with that,” he winks, “secret recipe.”

Allura looks smitten. She’ll be immune to the charm in a minute or so. “With that icing you like.”

“How was Europe?” Pidge asks, her large eyes watching Keith through her larger glasses.

“Oh, great. We loved it there.” From the corner of his eye, he sees Lance idly touch his mouth. He elaborates, “Lance complained the entire time. It was Cuba this and Cuba that. But we managed to find good beaches.”

“You’re so spoilt, Lance,” Pidge remands, settling back onto the ground with her legs crossed. Gesturing to Keith, she pats the empty shaded spot beside her.

Lance gasps, “I only did for the first day!”

“Half the whole trip,” Keith corrects. He dumps the cooler on the side of the bright red rug.

“Whatever. Where’s my lover man, daffodils?”

Allura begins to point at Keith, who’s descending to the ground, but Pidge answers correctly immediately, “Hunk’s still unpacking the van.”

“Do I look cute enough for him?” Lance takes his hands behind the dog’s ears to brush back his own hair.

“Whose dog is he?” Keith asks, actually curious. He lowers himself to the floor, crossing his legs. The sun kisses only the skin on his ankles. He leans back with his palms on the cooler side of the rug.

“Lance? Thought he was yours,” Pidge says drily. She smirks.

Lance shoots her a dirty look. “I’ll bite you. I’m untrained.” He takes a huge chunk of air in his mouth and grits his teeth, shakes his head around like he’s mauling on something.

Pidge pats Keith’s extended leg. “I feel sorry for you. You should have kissed Shiro when he caught you under the mistletoe.”

It seems that that comment makes his skin prickle along his cheeks with more heat than the sun hitting his ankles does. Lance tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrow. He runs his hand along the dog’s fur like a villain with a rabbit. “Is that how you feel, Keith? You want a kiss from Shiro?” He barely waits a second for an answer. “You’re hesitating. My heart… it’s breaking!” He gasps, and slams his back onto the ground. The dog runs along Lance’s body and starts to lick his open, shocked mouth.

Allura looks down at him, grimacing. “You want some wet wipes, darling?”

“No,” Lance sniffs, but he’s stretching his neck out in a position that the dog can’t reach his mouth in, “This is _love_. Keith would never.”

“Lick your face?” Keith frowns.

“Ah! I see that you’ve met my Stevie!” A distinct Australian – it’s a specific sort of lazy drawl that sounds precise and articulate anyway – accented voice exclaims.

Lance snaps up into a sitting position. Keith ensures that dog-Stevie (?) wasn’t hit by any of Lance’s spontaneous body parts and then looks up in the direction of the voice. It’s come from a man with a bright ginger moustache that’s extravagant and twirling. There’s only one man that Keith knows that has been described with those features before: Coran. He’s Allura’s grandmother’s, convict ex-husband’s great-grandson. Allura and Coran don’t share an ounce of the same blood, but they’re inseparable. At least that’s what Keith and Lance have heard over hour-long video calls with Pidge.

“This is Coran!” Allura says excitingly, “I told you about him before you two left. He filled in for you two at Voltron.”

Keith and Lance push themselves off of the picnic rug to greet Coran. Coran sweeps them up into his arms and hugs them tightly to his chest. The dog Stevie rummages through three pairs of legs. Lance says, “You smell like the beach _and_ bark at the same time,” and with every word, his chin moves against Keith’s scalp.

Another pair of hands clasp around Keith’s back. They’re large and warm, and so clearly Hunk’s. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you guys _so_ much.”

Hunk squishes the three of them closer together. Keith’s face smudges tighter into Lance’s chest and Coran’s shoulder. Lance calls out, “Shiro, come here? You can cuddle Keith and smell Coran’s manly scent.” He hums, the vibration of it traveling from his jaw to Keith’s skull.

“I don’t need a group hug as an excuse to cuddle Keith,” Shiro says and then a hot breath – Shiro’s, most definitely – hits the back of Keith’s neck, and then the warmth of Shiro’s whole front. “Or an excuse to smell Coran,” he punctuates it with a deep, fake sniff.

Allura coos, “You all are so adorable. Where’s my phone? I need to take a photo.”

“Just got one,” Pidge says after the mock camera shutter on her phone. It goes off a second time. “Wait, this angle’s better.”

Lips unquestionably brush against the corner of Keith’s forehead and Lance’s hand lingers on Keith’s lower back as everyone finally decides that it’s getting too sweaty and too hot wrapped together like that.

Shiro grins. “You guys don’t look jet lagged at all.” He’s crossed his arms, so that his biceps bulge and the ink that he’s got along his right arm almost shimmers under the sunrays. The muscle tee definitely doesn’t hide his defined muscles.

Lance hooks his elbow around Keith’s neck, pretending to yawn. “Oh, we are. Aren’t we, babe?”

Keith also yawns, diverting his gaze. He hums, “Yeah.”

“You sure you’re not tired from something else?” Hunk raises a brow. He’s on the other side of Lance, his fingers resting on Keith’s shoulder.

“Sports,” Lance answers, “Lots of exercise and sport. Got my heart going almost everyday.”

“You play for a team, boys? Footy, basketball, baseball?” Coran contributes to the conversation.

Pidge snorts. Lance hides his smile into the swirls of Keith’s hair. Keith answers, “No. We don’t. We go to gym though.”

“Keith,” Lance mutters, “ _We do_ play for a team.”

“What?”

Pidge starts to chortle.

Shiro sighs.

“But we don’t,” Keith stresses.

“I’ve got triangle shaped fairy bread. It is a legacy from Coran’s homeland, Australia. Sprinkles stuck to butter on bread. Lance, it is like a dessert, but you can eat it for lunch,” Allura chimes in, “Shiro, where’s my rosy bag?”

Keith gets back to his spot underneath the shade. Allura stays in her position under the sun, even presents her paler chest to the sun for the skin to tan. Lance throws a bottle of sun lotion at Keith before folding his legs underneath himself and digging into an open container full of rainbow slices. Hunk lounges on the other side of Pidge. Shiro starts to unpack everything and spreads it out on the blanket. Coran entertains Stevie with dog treats.

It’s a nice day. That’s fairly obvious, but when Keith looks down at the prickly grass the only thing he envisions is the tiny, crawling insects that live in there. He shudders. He lathers his cheeks with sunscreen and then leans over to hand the bottle to Lance, along with a pair of sunglasses. Hunk takes it and passes it along. Keith says, “Thanks.”

He makes eye contact with Lance, who starts to mouth something in the silence. His mouth moves a few times, a lengthy pause between the small phrase. Keith frowns.

“Are you saying ‘you’re so horny’ or ‘it’s so porny’? I honestly don’t know which one’s the better one,” Pidge questions in a monotone tone.

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura chastises.

“You’ve had a whole month for sex to be the only thing on your mind. And the past week were you’ve purposefully avoided mankind. And the funny shit I tag you in. Lance.” Hunk pouts. He pauses. “You’re making Keith sweat with embarrassment,” he accuses, “Poor Keith.”

“It’s hot. I’m sweating because it’s hot,” Keith explains. He fans himself again and pretends that his cheeks aren’t red.

“I’m saying ‘yoghurt story’,” Lance whines, his legs jittering, “Stop embarrassing me in front of this wonderful man with a cute ass dog.” Coran grins.

“Then learn how to mouth things properly,” Pidge counters.

“I mouth things damn fine. I mouth dicks through pants just great. You need to learn to stop trying to read peoples mouths when they’re not staring at you.”

“Oh my God. Keith’s going to combust. Here, here. Come here, little guy,” Hunk coos. He reaches over Pidge, grabs onto Keith’s forearms and pulls Keith over Pidge, right into two laps. He pats Keith’s back.

Keith can’t help but giggle. He feels too soft and too sticky, but it’s good to be with friends again. He taps on Hunk’s forearm to let him go. Hunk does, but sends him off with an icy bottle of ice tea and a half-finished punnet of strawberries.

As he bites a rather large and juicy one, he side eyes Lance. Lance is sitting directly under the sun and speaking to Coran, who’s on the opposite side of the picnic rug. He’s got colourful sprinkles dotted along his mouth and he mindlessly licks them as he begins to talk, mostly asking questions about Stevie. Lance’s skin glimmers against the sun. The stars have always suited him more.

“Yoghurt story,” Hunk suddenly says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Don’t say it’s funny, because Hunk will laugh even if it’s not, Keith tells himself. “Oh, um…” He idly pushes a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “This old lady in Greece lathered me in yoghurt after my sun burn.”

Hunk snorts and eases into a few chuckles. “Can’t imagine how you’d react to that.”

“I was naked in the bath of our hotel room. She randomly shows up and dumps yoghurt on me. It’s safe to say that I was surprised.”

“He thought the old widow was me,” Lance adds in, rolling his eyes with the motion of his flaying hand. He bites of the strawberry when it swings passed his mouth. “She was 5 feet, wearing this long gown. Maybe it was our hair? Short, brown, cute?” He flips his growing fridge to the side of his face.

Hunk lets out an earthy chuckle, whilst Shiro face palms and Pidge dramatically sighs. Allura hides a smile behind her hand. Coran inspects Lance’s cute hair.

“Easy mistake,” Keith mumbles.

“Oh, yeah! I’ll just confuse my boyfriend since college to an elderly Greek woman. _Easy mistake,”_ Hunk says, talking animatedly.

“The door was closed, she was humming. Lance always hums,” Keith says.

“I forgive you, Keith,” Lance says very seriously, looking solemn, “I forgive you.”

“Well, _I don’t forgive you_ for dragging me to a nude beach in France!” As soon as he says it, Keith promptly shuts his mouth. This little situation affects him more than it affects Lance.

Allura shrieks, “What!” Stevie barks at her and attempts to climb onto her crossed legs.

Keith immediately averts his gaze to a spot on the rug and reaches out to tug on a loose violet thread. He hears someone inhale quickly, and Shiro says, “I’m not even surprised.”

“Neither,” Pidge plainly says.

Keith can hear Hunk choking. He looks up. Lance slams Hunk’s lower back with three blows and Hunk finally begins to clear his throat. “I don’t,” he says sternly, “want to know. What. Happened. On. The. Nude beach.”

Lance shrugs. “Keith brought it up. Tell ‘im that.”

“I’ve been to a nude beach!” Caron inputs, hand held high in might, “It’s very… freeing.”

“Keith thought so too,” Lance quietly comments, strained. His cheeks are pulled in, like he’s trying not to laugh.

Keith glares. “Hunk. Hit him.”

“I don’t condone—“

Pidge strikes out. Lance yells, “Ow!”

He pouts for a few seconds, up until Allura hands him hummus and flat bread. He shares half with Keith, reaching behind Hunk and Pidge’s backs. When retreating back to his own space, he swiftly snaps Pidge’s strap.

Pidge drops everything that she’s holding – a Californian sushi roll and a plastic fish half full of soy sauce – and completely ignores the large wrap that’s ascending into Hunk’s mouth, and pounces across Hunk at Lance, effectively wrapping her strong legs around Lance’s waist and pulling at his hair. She plucks an eyebrow hair off.

“No,” Lance moans, swatting her hands off his shaped brows.

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes over the debacle. He gives Keith a small smile and continues to chew on his own sushi. Keith beams.

 

 ~

 

“It’s so cold on the dark side,” Lance whines, but remains where he is.

After stuffing himself of even more hummus and crackers and bits of cheese, he crawled over the rug and he settled himself between Keith’s legs, his back pressed into Keith’s chest. He balanced a bowl of blueberries onto his flat stomach and gradually began to pop one or two in his mouth, even reaching up to put one of the mini fruits into Keith’s own mouth. The first three times a smudge of blue stained Keith’s cheek.

“Then go back to the sun,” Keith tells Lance, staring at Lance’s golden head. He’s leaning back, situating himself with both his palms on the rug.

“But you’re not there,” Lance whispers and then loudly chomps on the squishy blueberries.

Keith knocks the side of Lance’s shins with his feet. “Piss off.”

“Fine.” Lance wriggles deeper into the space between Keith’s stretched legs.

“You’re like a fucking worm,” Hunk groans, trying to get a blueberry.

Lance jiggles more. The blueberries topple off his stomach and roll in every direction of the rug. Allura quickly swoops a few up and plunks them in her mouth. Hunk hisses, “2 second rule!” and gobbles all of them up before Stevie excitedly steps all over them.

“You’re going to attract ants, Lance,” Pidge tells him off, throwing a paw-squished blueberry in the direction of the dense trees 

“Because of how sweet I am?” Lance rebuts. Keith knows that he’s grinning.

A condescending look takes place on Pidge’s face. It then turns to devastation. Pidge snaps, “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost all my good comebacks. Lance, don’t speak to me until I’ve got all my mojo back. I swear to God!”

“Did I just witness Pidge’s self-destruction?” Lance wonders.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry,” Shiro begins to say to a mourning Pidge, “Here, have a—“

“Shiro… is that a meme? Are you really… wow,” Lance says softly.

“He’s catching up. Shame he’s still in 2010,” Hunk says grumpily.

Lance stretches his arms along the top of Keith’s legs. “Better late than never.”

Keith rests his chin on top of Lance’s head. He blows out a strand of hair that’s resting near his mouth.

Coran clears his throat. “Mates – Keith and Lance – I hope you don’t mind me asking. I know we’ve just met.”

“Threesome,” Lance says under his breath. Keith kicks at Lance’s shin.

Coran continues, “But would you two do the honour of attending my wedding? A wedding is about love, after all. I think that you two would be a great addition to represent young love.”

Keith _um_ ’s and attempts to look down at Lance, but is deterred when Lance enthusiastically nods. “Yeah, I love weddings!”

“Oh!” Coran’s gleeful. “I’ll just tell my beloved,” he announces and prances a few picnic rugs away into an empty spot, phone out and poking at the screen.

Pidge grudgingly says, “He told me that weddings are about knowledge.”

“He told me there’re about food. Chicken breast, rib eye steak, potato croquette…” Hunk trails off, looking dreamy.

“Who exactly is Coran again?” Lance asks.

“Allura’s grandmother’s, convict ex-husband’s great-grandson,” Keith supplies.

Allura looks delighted. Lance attempts to look up at him, head running along his chest. Everyone else has an expression of shock – wide eyes and open mouths. He shrugs. “What? I listen.”

“Thank you for agreeing,” Allura stage whispers, like Coran is closer than he actually is, “He just wants to find stability here. A group of friends. You two don’t mind, do you? He might take a while to get used to, but…”

“I love Coran already. Keith, do you love Coran?” Lance pointedly asks.

He looks in Coran’s direction, catches the man talking with large hand gestures. “Yeah, he seems great.”

“Liar. You don’t like his dog.”

“Keith always complains about the one pissing in front of the office,” Pidge tells everyone.

“Blue pissed on our favourite beanbag when we first got her and he couldn’t care less,” Lance sits up, scandalized, “Keith, what are your priorities?”

“I am a cat person,” Keith says very clearly.

“I knew that you liked cats, but I didn’t think you’d discriminate against dogs like this. Stevie! _Stevieeee_ ,” Lance crows.

Stevie barks and runs to Lance’s side. Stevie’s face is painted with the red and blue from the fruits he’s been rummaging in. Lance picks him up and shuffles next to Keith, so that Stevie is panting right next to Keith’s ear.

“Lance,” Keith warns, breath frozen. He snaps out of it with a full body shiver that allows him to breathe again, and moves his head to the side.

Lance pouts out him. “You never told me you were scared of dogs. You were alright patting that French ladies Chihuahua when I held him.”

“Oh,” Shiro suddenly realises, “Sendak’s Rottweiler. It chased you.”

“The house that you broke into?” Lance hisses quietly.

Keith’s not ashamed. He’s certainly not ashamed of how he grew up or what he did when he was growing up. It was all fun, save for those few life threatening moments of jaw snapping guard dogs, near misses when diving into shallow water, dodging the sharp knives of street boys without homes, being challenged to jump from building to building and not caring if the gap got longer… But it’s confronting that Lance remembers that Keith once offhandedly mentioned one of those situations ( _I can’t really swear that you don’t have a criminal’s mouth on your dick. I broke into this asshole Sendak’s house with this cool – yeah, Shiro._ Oh _, you think that the way I’m sucking your dick is criminal? Oh_ shit _. Shit._ )

“I’m fine with Stevie,” Keith softly says, a little embarrassed, “Having him that close to me makes him look huge. I guess. It just doesn’t feel good.”

Lance smiles prettily at him, a comfort in a form of lush and sweetness. “I now know why you chose the laziest cat out of the litter.”

Lance threads his fingers through Keith’s and guides his hand into Stevie’s soft fur. Lance’s hand is warmer, more comforting, than anything will ever be, but the feeling of Stevie’s heart beat throbbing through his little body is something of a treasure. Keith glances up from the golden fur to the light brown hair that’s framing Lance’s face, to the vibrant eyes that are staring back at him.

He lets Lance lean forward and even tilts his head to the side to accommodate Lance’s mouth on his.

“Ugh,” Pidge grunts, “How are they still in honey moon phase? That shit should have ended years ago.”

Lance pulls back, but only so far that his mouth is brushing against Keith’s cheek. He displays Pidge his delighted middle finger and exaggeratedly licks along Keith’s chin, lips, across the cheekbone and ends it with a fluffy kiss on Keith’s nose.

“There was a time that Keith would have shoved him off,” Hunk clicks his tongue.

“Oh,” Lance squeaks, “He’s pinching my balls.”

Keith twists.

 

 ~

 

They’re going home just before the sun disappears from the sky. Coran tells them to wear mediocre suits at the wedding, because, “It’s not your bloody wedding, mates.” Keith blushes at the mere mention of him and Lance getting married, but Lance just looks bored.

Lance accelerates out of the parking lot as soon as Allura chimes in with the rest of the gang with their goodbyes. She sticks her head in the frame of the window, grinning and alluring as usual, and says, “You are both coming into the office on Monday, aren’t – don’t you speed and laugh! I know that your eyes crinkle shut when you _laaaauuuugh_!”

It’s music to the ears – Lance’s laugh. It cleanses Keith’s being; smoothes over all the rough caresses and gets him seeing clear, a sparkle from the faeries in the corner of his vision. It’s a wonderful feeling, absorbing Lance’s laugh with a high spirit.

Lance’s phone dings. Lance wriggles in the drivers seat. “Babe, you mind?”

“In your pocket?”

“Up my ass,” Lance hopefully jokes.

Keith reaches over to Lance’s side and slips his hand into the tight pocket. He has to jiggle the phone out of Lance’s pocket. It’s not suggestive in anyway, but Keith knows that as soon as they get out of the car that every movement will be suggestive and heart racing and _hot_.

He holds the phone out to Lance. Lance doesn’t even look at it. “It’s illegal to text and drive. Stop pressuring me, self-proclaimed bad boy. Pretty please read it for me.”

He unlocks Lance’s phone by plucking in the numbers 4-8-6-5. It’s a message from Hunk.

“It says: _when you’re done_ …” Keith grumpily looks up. Lance smirks and reaches over, now cruising with one hand on the wheel and the other on Keith’s upper thigh. “ _When you’re done eating Keith out remember to make it to our gym sesh tomorrow_.”

“Tell him that I’ve already done a lot of strenuous activities this week, but I’ll make it. And that he knows me so well.”

Keith’s typed text of _I’ll be there_ gets sent with a _swoosh_.

“Whatever you said he’ll know it’s you,” Lance says, matter-of-fact.

He’s right. Hunk immediately sends back: _hey keith, enjoy ur night ;)_

 

 ~

 

It’s an urgency to get their mouths on each other as soon as they’re at their front door. Lance slings himself all over Keith’s back, hooking his hands against Keith’s chest as Keith tries to get the door unlocked. He’s struggling, completely out of his mind as Lance sucks onto the skin that curves with the junction between shoulder and neck.

Just to be a dick, Keith huffs, “You’re stretching my tank.”

“If we’re not inside in two seconds I’m going to rip it off you,” Lance threatens, voice rough and breath like steam.

His front is pressed solid against every part of the back of Keith’s body, subtly rocking into Keith with small movements. It’s something that’s barely there. Haggar, an old witch, lives across the hall. She can’t complain if they don’t have hard pricks.

“One…” Lance starts counting, diving his fingers down Keith’s top. His cold fingers raise goose bumps all over Keith.

Keith shudders and turns the door handle. He stumbles inside. Lance slams the door shut after kicking in the picnic basket. Keith kicks off his shoes, trying to balance, but Lance grabs him and crowds him against the door, claiming his mouth without a second to breathe.

Keith immediately places his hands on Lance’s hips, a nice little curve that he likes to fit his hands around. He pushes up Lance’s v-neck to press his fingers along Lance’s olive skin. He opens his mouth, inviting the wet swipe along his own tongue. He leans into the gripping hand around his throat and effectively deepens the kiss.

He breathes in harshly through his nose, or he can’t breathe. Air gets struck in his throat when Lance shoves his leg between Keith’s. He slams his head back onto the surface of the door, Lance’s hand slipping to the base of his throat and Lance’s lips and tongue dragging down Keith’s chin to the side of his jaw. Keith, open mouthed, finally gasps, “Lance.”

He pulls Lance closer to him and kneads into Lance’s grooves, relishing the rhythm that travels through Lance and onto Keith’s half-hard cock as he does so. Lance sucks hard onto the skin under Keith’s ear, pulling off to largely bite at Keith’s neck and then travelling down Keith’s shoulder.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith whines, and then again without substance when Lance takes his hands, clasping them in one of his own, and presses them against the door, way above their heads.

“Stay,” Lance says, voice hoarse and fluttering onto Keith’s face.

Keith settles his arms into an elbow stretch, so that it’s more comfortable than stretching them up. He lets out a choked noise when Lance kisses his cheek, an innocent gesture in the midst of Lance’s sticky fingers expertly working on Keith’s fly.

He shuts his eyes and tries to labour his breathing, tries to not grind against Lance’s hands. He does arch his back off the door so that his dick is closer to Lance. Zip and fly open, Lance shoves Keith’s jeans up to his thighs. He immediately palms Keith’s cock and crowds in close, so that his own dick is pressed against Keith’s hip.

Lance finally lets out a breathy moan and then a high-pitched meow. A _meow_. Keith snaps his eyes open and searches Lance’s face for any indication that Lance is aware of what just came out of his mouth.

“That wasn’t me, you dickhead,” Lance says in a low, disbelieving tone.

“You do strange things sometimes,” Keith defends himself, voice quiet. He gulps and whistles out air, chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline.

With his hand still over the briefs covering Keith’s cock, Lance urges them into another heated kiss. Keith loves kissing. He loves it, he really does. It works well that Keith fell for someone that has a nice mouth, and that knows how to use the plush, pouty lips for kissing. The eagerness of the both of them counts towards how good their kisses are too. One stunner and two eager kissers – it works. Oh, it works _so_ much. Keith moans 

Something ambushes their tangled legs. Something with claws and a piercing mewl that strikes both their ears to ring. Lance pulls away first, always the annoyed cat-owner, and leans his forehead on Keith’s, looking down into Keith’s eyes with his breath shallow.

“I can’t do this,” he threatens. He gently shoves Blue out of the way. She slides against the floorboards, but comes back for more of that game.

“Okay,” Keith says. He unfolds his arms and steps to the side that Lance’s hand isn’t trapping him. “Okay,” he sighs and pulls his jeans up, ignoring the uncomfortable way they hang loose around his hips and how his briefs feel too tight around his front. He’s so _hard_ already; he’s beginning to ache.

He crouches down and scoops the persistent nuisance into his chest. He scratches the top of Blue’s head, her purrs now matching with how fast his heart is beating. He looks at Lance and satisfyingly notes how scarlet Lance’s skin has gotten. He slants his gaze to Lance’s wet lips He licks his own, but there’s no need.

“Priorities,” Lance mutters, annoyed, and saunters down the hallway. Before he enters the room he begins to lift his shirt over his head. Keith gets a peek at Lance’s toned abdomen before he disappears.

“Sometimes I wish you could feed yourself,” Keith tells Blue, who reaches out with a paw and pets his nose.

With a hurry, he jogs to the laundry. He shifts her to one arm and empties half the packet of dry fish and crab biscuits into her bowl, so that it’s overflowing. That should keep her busy. He gives her several final scratches under her chin, so it becomes a purring, satisfied mania, and places her in front of the bowl. She digs in right away, and gives Keith no mind as he closes the laundry door behind her back. Now she only has the dignity of her knitted mice to shred apart.

He walks down the hallway to the room straight away. He pauses in the doorway, taking in Lance, naked, on the bed. “Oh fuck,” he curses and reaches down to adjust himself in his pants, but then he mindlessly starts undressing, fixated on the vastness of tanned skin and Lance’s hand fisting his own, equally as hard, cock. He’s so _pretty_.

“Tie your bangs back,” Lance orders. He’s also bossy.

“Alright.”

Fully nude, he stretches up with an elastic and twines his hair through it, once, twice, and three times. A few strands fall loose, as they always do, so Keith tucks them behind his ear, even though he knows that they won’t stay. He hesitates.

“Get on me.”

“Yeah.”

He lands on the bed with his knees.

The rushed aura comes to the end like this, with Keith pressing Lance against the bed, with Lance’s teasing fingers sprinkling light touches down Keith’s abdomen, his hips… Keith nudges Lance’s face with his nose, encouraging Lance to look up so they can kiss.

Lance does. He uses a hand to pull Keith’s face closed to him by pressing his fingers to the side of Keith’s neck, the palm of his hand pressed against the curve above the sternum.

“We doing what we talked about this morning?” Lance suddenly asks, breaking away.

“You mean what you talked about,” Keith corrects, breathless. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Yeah.” He knows that he’ll like it. Lance as much told him this morning. He’ll complain and whine, but he’ll _like_ it.

“You’re gonna regret it,” Lance says, but he’s grinning.

“Yeah,” Keith repeats, than does again, “Yeah,” when Lance takes both their cocks in both his hands – one for the bases and the other to drag along their shafts. It feels so good like this, smooth enough with how much Keith’s been leaking. Lance throws his head back on the pillow, mouth open. Keith follows and kisses around it, pulling with a bite on Lance’s lower lip.

He replaces a hand that Lance places on his back, pressing them closer, hotter, together. The hand smoothes up and into Keith’s hair, gripping tightly and making sure that their mouths stay together. This kiss is wet and filthy, teeth scraping against each other just enough that it can be acknowledged, but ignored.

Lance takes his only hand off their dicks and reaches out blindly, if the clanking and sounds of the drawer being sifted through prove correct. Keith lowers hips onto Lance’s raised ones, and starts to grind them together. The pressure of his hand and their bodies pressing together make Keith’s stomach flutter and he opens his mouth to breathe, but all takes in is more of Lance’s dirty kisses.

“Just need it a little wetter,” Lance says against Keith’s mouth.

Some more sounds that aren’t heavy breathing and the bed quietly rocking, and then Lance takes both their cocks in a hand with lubed fingers. Keith gasps when the slide is much smoother, without as much friction as there was before between the dryness. Lance swats Keith’s hand away.

Keith’s skin feels too hot. He leans onto his elbow, stretched over Lance’s body. He nuzzles into Lance’s neck and shoulder, inhales Lance’s musk. He bites down when Lance squeezes their cockheads together and shivers when Lance teases a grip on his balls. The pleasure in his stomach is sparking.

His hips ache with anticipation. He grabs the side of Lance’s abdomen, thumb pressing hard into the muscles there.

“Fuck,” Lance groans when their cocks slip out of his grasp. He gathers them together again, goes faster. He’s close – breathy and crying out, “ _Oh, oh, oh_.”

“You close?” He asks Keith, lips against Keith’s cheek.

Keith can hardly speak. “La—“ he attempts to, but he bites down onto Lance’s sweaty skin again. He begins to thrust into Lance’s fist, seeking out his release.

“Still counts as lying if you don’t say,” Lance chastises and flips them over, his hand still on their cocks.

Keith flushes even more, all over, and opens his mouth to say something, but instead two of Lance’s fingers ease into his mouth. He sucks on them, despite teasing Lance that morning about how Lance was the more willing one to take things in his mouth. They both are. _Both_ of them are.

Lance pulls them out with a string of saliva, but hooks his thumb on the side of Keith’s mouth. “I’ll suck you,” Keith proposes, “Fuck, let me suck you. Lance.”

With a dirty smirk, Lance propositions, somehow in a full sentence, “Said this morning I was gonna jerk off while staring at you, you pretty shit.”

“Fuck, Lance,” Keith grunts, arching his back so that his cock drags through Lance’s grip. He groans aloud when Lance lets go of him and shifts his hips to the side as Lance’s ever-moving hand knocks into his weeping cock.

He turns his classic red when he notices that Lance is really staring directly at him. It’s a heavy gaze that Keith feels that sees right through to his core. Lance’s pupils are blown and he looks hungry for it. The determination makes Keith want to see Lance come. He wants to see Lance’s body drawn up tight, the spill on Keith’s pale skin. He wants it on his face… A distraction to how harsh the ache is between his legs.

“On my face,” he shudders, “Come on my face.”

Lance groans and everything goes crisp still. Keith stares intently at Lance’s hard dick as Lance shuffles over his body, then straddles his chest. It’s a light weight on his lungs. Lance is close enough for Keith to get him in his mouth, but Lance’s hand is jerking off to fast for Keith to sweep in at a proper moment. He wants it so badly on his tongue.

As soon as his tongue lags out, come splatters on it. Lance’s body jerks twice and then another gush of white ribbons paints Keith’s cheek and eyelids, as he’d closed his eyes to taste the first streak.

The warmth on Keith’s face spreads out as Lance sweeps his come with his finger, guiding it to Keith’s mouth. Keith opens wide and sucks the finger into his mouth, and grazes his teeth along it as Lance pulls it out.

“Now let me come,” Keith says, voice tight.

Lance huffs a laugh. “Give me a moment,” he says, climbing off Keith’s chest and spreading out on the bed beside him.

He springs a tissue out of the box and gingerly cleans off Keith’s face. He presses a kiss underneath Keith’s jaw and holds Keith’s hand, rests their joint hands on the small amount of bed space between them. Keith stares at the ceiling, shuffling his legs on and off the mattress when it gets too uncomfortable.

“Lance?” He calls out softly, even after he hears light snores.

 

~

 

It’s the midst of the night and every time Keith loses his erection, goes to sleep, dreams of long lashes and lips on his throat, he stirs awake with a hard-on. The fifth time the ache comes back with a heavier weight and he can’t take it anymore. It’s already hot in the room and he reeks of humidity.

“Lance,” he loudly says, punching Lance’s shoulder, “Lance.”

Lance opens his eyes blearily. He hums, closes them.

“I need to come.”

“You just _want_ to,” Lance drools.

“Let me come. I’m gonna tear something, Lance.”

Lance raises his brows. “You knew before you woke me up that I wasn’t letting you.”

“I’ve had enough,” Keith weakly says.

With open eyes, Lance takes Keith’s cock in his hand and starts a slow, lazy stroke. He then asks casually, ignoring Keith’s gasp and the jerk of his leg, “How are you still hard?” He intertwines a leg between Keith’s legs. “You been sleeping?”

“Yeah, I… dreams,” Keith explains, turning over to his side so that he’s closer, can get some kisses.

“What sort of dreams?” Lance asks, still stroking.

“I – shit, um – you. You and your stupid fucking lashes,” Keith quickly says, in one huge exhale. “Lance, I’m gonna—“

Lance stops, squeezing tight at the base. His face is hidden in the dark, but there’s a high chance he’s smirking. “My lashes, huh?”

“ _Lance_.”

“You know I can bring you off right now, but it’ll be worth it for the morning. You’ll get my mouth… my whole fucking hand if you want.” Lance kisses his eyelid with dry lips.

“Really?”

Lance spins him around, so that they’re pressed back to front. Keith’s cock lays against his stomach, hard and on the verge of leaking. He jumps at the tickle that arises through his stomach when Lance laces an arm around Keith’s waist. It helps, the external touch and the sweaty feeling because of the excess warmth.

 

 

 ~

 

  

It’s the morning and Keith finally comes with his ass full of lube, spit, three fingers and a tongue deep inside his hole. He’s grabbing a handful of chestnut hair and crying out Lance’s name. There’s a tear or two on his cheeks. They get kissed off as soon as his climax comes to an artful, trembling end and Lance makes a face, says, “That was really salty,” and Keith laughs so hard that he gets a stitch in his stomach.

They fall into a proper kiss.

(The sound of claws scratching the laundry door doesn’t pull them apart, but Lance’s gym-date with Hunk does).

 

**_End_ **

**Author's Note:**

> pls figure out what lance's passcode 4 his phone stands for. u won't regret it :S (hint: it's a 4 letter word starting with... 'h'.....)
> 
> please friend me foulrescent.tumblr.com 
> 
> THANK U FOR READING :P


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